He carried but one bag and attracted no
attention whatever from the station loungers. While I have never known
him be entirely vogue in his appointments, his lordship carries off a
lounge-suit and his gray-cloth hat with a certain manner which the
Honourable George was never known to achieve even in the days when I
groomed him. The grayish rather aggressive looking side-whiskers first
caught my eye, and a moment later I had taken his hand.
Belknap-Jackson at the same time took his bag, and with a trepidation
so obvious that his lordship may perhaps have been excusable for a
momentary misapprehension. I mean to say, he instantly and crisply
directed Belknap-Jackson to go forward to the luggage van and recover
his box.
A bit awkward it was, to be sure, but I speedily took the situation in
hand by formally presenting the two men, covering the palpable
embarrassment of the host by explaining to his lordship the astounding
ingenuity of the American luggage system. By the time I had deprived
him of his check and convinced him that his box would be admirably
recovered by a person delegated to that service, Belknap-Jackson,
again in form, was apologizing to him for the squalid character of the
station and for the hardships he must be prepared to endure in a crude
Western village.
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